Running From Ignorance
by LittleKyubeyGirl
Summary: He'd tossed and turned over ideas; suicide or just simply running off, leaving everyone behind. Suicide might hurt his country, a risk he was not willing to take, and any who no one would want an invisible body. Thus he had started packing to run off through Canadian wilderness. Where to, you ask? He had no idea... WARNING; slightly snapped!Canada, will have angst and cursing later


**We've all got scars as big as ours, a token for the pain we hide inside of us. Everyone's scared that somebody knows, you keep it inside, yeah, that's how it goes. If you've ever heard a beating heart. A rhythm for the songs we're too afraid to sing. Nobody here is perfectly fine, a delicate frame, a fragile design... - Bigger Than Love by My Favorite Highway.**

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**Chapter 1 ; Decisions **

If only for a more noticeable country to be the star of this fiction, then perhaps I would not struggle with the details as I write them slowly yet surely to explain what happened to those unaware. It was a simple morning, arisen by rain splattering against the windows, dripping slowly on the window panes with occasional thunder, of which awoke a startled Canadian from his slumber. His blonde hair, messy from yet another restless night, swayed behind him as he quickly held his legs to his chest, rocking back and forth. He'd always been afraid of thunder, well always starting from his early years as a nation, the constant rain fall mixed with the crimson spilled gore. He knew it was now clean where he lived, but one could never be to sure when the rain might just blend with blood. After a few moments of what felt like hours, Matthew, the Canadian I spoke of earlier (our, to be more specific the nation of Canada in fact), arose and grabbed his polar bear...Kumachicki was it? Oh never mind his name, but the polar bear had been asking nonstop for food and there was only so long Mattie could listen to his whiny bear before snapping and just following his orders.

As the poor Canadian walked toward his kitchen he allowed words to seep into his head, _worthless, invisible, ignored, forgotten... _All the same deal it always was, a forgotten boy grew to be a forgotten man with absolutely no way to change his lucid fate. But something was different now, as he'd always believed it was just his life and, of course, someone had to live it. But recently he'd realized that this wasn't completely fate, and he'd never fully believed in destiny any who. He didn't _want _to live alone with only a polar bear as comfort, he didn't want to deal with the fact that sometimes he forgot his own name. He didn't want to sourly sit in his kitchen on his birthday, no call, no text, no knock, nothing to show that anyone appreciated him. He didn't want that, but if he screamed to them all to finally see them, they'd look at an empty space and fear ghosts. Screaming was the same as silence for him, as always.

Kumakoi had already taken his own food, a plate of pancakes set out on the table from who knows when. Mattie didn't stop him, for they probably weren't to old, in fact he could have sworn he cooked them last night yet couldn't hold back tears long enough to eat them. It would be a shame to waste them any who. It was then that he looked upon his calendar on which he saw an 'x' on the day three days from now. A meeting.

One he would be attending, because hopefully he'd be long gone by then.

He'd tossed and turned over ideas; suicide or just simply running off, leaving everyone behind. Suicide might hurt his country, and any who no one would want an invisible body, thus he had started packing to run off through Canadian wilderness. Where to, you ask? He had no idea, he just wanted to get far away where no one could sense him, no one could ever find him, no one would care after all. Leaving Kumajaro with his pancakes, the Canadian sat at a desk. His determination blinded him, he couldn't tell whether it was just a desk sitting in his home, unused, or his office desk. He reached and managed to find a writing utensil and a piece of rough, torn paper that would just have to do; thus he concluded he was indeed sitting in his office, but he hardly cared nor did he double check. He concentrated on the pencil in his hand, the led suddenly seeming like the most interesting thing to him, though he was actually simply wondering what he was supposed to write. He had no clue who would find it; or in that matter, if anyone would find it. Finally, he had an idea on what to put, and was satisfied with it even though it was a bit blunt.

_Hello there, whoever you are. I've decided to leave, to where not even I know, not that you care. Bye - Canada "Matthew Williams"_

**A/N: **What do you think so far?


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